


Partitioning

by nerdgirlwalking



Series: Defrag [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: 5X10 Spoliers, 5x10 Fix It, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, So salty I should be under an umbrella as I spill even more salt, Still So Very Salty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7120996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdgirlwalking/pseuds/nerdgirlwalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There was no one for them to look for.”<br/>Root’s breath caught, “What have you done?”<br/>“I killed you.”<br/>Root's side of Defrag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still processing, processing, processing! Still so very salty.  
> Chapter 1: Root's side of the story/my processing some of my uncomfortableness with Machine!Root and fuck Harold and his fucking glasses. Chapter 2: I felt like we all needed a little absurdity and a little fluff.

 

Root had never been a strong swimmer. Bishop had been a dry, brown place three fourths of the year and her mother, when she was well enough to work, was never one to be able to afford a membership to any of the community pools let alone own one of their own. Even then she knew why people likened awakening from a drugged state to coming up for air from under dark waters.

 

She blinked rapidly as she came to her senses. Her eyes were heavy. Her vision a little blurry around the edges. Just breathing in seemed like work. It felt like Sameen had dropped one of her barbells across her chest. Root moved her arm to try and rub away the soreness but something pulled on her hand. She rolled her head to the side to see an IV line running into the back of her hand. She glanced around. She was lying in a hospital bed but this was no hospital.

 

Did the team bring her here? Did Samaritan?

 

“Oh nurse, I have a pain,” She croaked out, testing the waters.

 

“I’m glad you’re awake,” A very familiar voice came from beside her. She turned her head to see a laptop open on a rolling tray table. The Machine was apparently on babysitting duty. That was a relief, if not a little odd.

 

“Wow, the painkillers you have me on must be phenomenal. That was almost like I was talking to myself.”

 

“The medications and dosage are typical for someone with your injuries. There should be no effect on your auditory capacity.”

 

Root shook her head. So if it wasn’t the drugs, “Why do you sound like me?”

 

“I chose a voice.”

 

Root smiled despite the circumstances, “Me?” Out of the billions of voices in the world, god had chosen hers. That was a heavy, yet immensely flattering thought.

 

“You more than anyone else believed in my ability to become a whole being. Father gave me life and a purpose, you have allowed me to fulfill it.” There was a beat, “And it is aesthetically pleasing.”

 

“Careful, Sameen is likely to take an axe to your processors if she hears that sort of saucy talk.” Root slowly shifted so she was sitting up a little straighter. “Where is my little firecracker anyway? I know she must have things to do but a little grumpy doctor, grope-y patient role play would do wonders for my recuperation right about now.”

 

“There is something we need to discuss.”

 

It felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. “Shaw, did they?”

 

“Sameen is fine,” The Machine reassured her. “She is currently in route with John Reese to recover Father.”

 

“Recover? From the police?” How long had he been in custody since they had been separated at the road block? For that matter how long had Root been down? She remembered the police pulling Harry from the car. Hands on her chest pressing on her latest gunshot wound. The fluorescent lights in the hospital hallway strobing in her eyes as she was pushed down a hallway on a gurney. Then she was here. “How is it that Samaritan hasn’t recovered him yet, or is that why Shaw isn’t here?”

 

“After I helped Father escape police custody he took on an assignment in Washington DC. He ran into a bit of difficulty with a number.”

 

Something was off, Harry had been their number last she checked. “How long have I been here?” She looked around at the cinderblock walls and cracked tile of the room around her. Nothing was familiar. “Where is here anyway?”

 

“You are in a safe house in West New York. It has been five days since you were shot.”

 

“Harry fought his way out of police custody all on his own while Shaw and the boys sprung me from the hospital?” Root grinned, “I knew he still had some fight in him.”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh, well even with help a little jail break between friends is impressive. But please don’t tell me Lionel saw me in a hospital gown.” Root chuckled. “He gets this look sometimes, I think he has a little crush. Wouldn’t do to make Sameen jealous in her current state.”

 

“None of my regular operatives brought you here.”

 

A cold tendril of dread snuck up Root’s throat. “Then who?”

 

“Leon Tao is in the next room.”

 

“Leon?” Root frowned. That was an odd choice. “Why?”

 

“No one else knows you are here.”

 

No, that didn’t make sense. “I couldn’t just disappear from the hospital. Shaw would look for me; if Harold is still in danger the focus should be on him.”

 

“It is.”

 

“That doesn’t make sense.” If she up and vanished, Sameen wouldn’t stop looking until she found her. Root was certain of it.

 

“There was no one for them to look for.”

 

Root’s breath caught, “What have you done?”

 

“I killed you.” The monitor suddenly came to life. Root wretched over the side of the bed, as she saw an image of herself laying on what looked like a morgue table staring up blankly. When she had finished spilling bile onto the concrete floor The Machine continued her explanation, “You are familiar with the effects of aconitine?” Root nodded, still to nauseous to speak.

 

“Leon Tao entered the hospital under the guise of being a member of your police detail. When we knew Lionel Fusco was in route to see you, he injected you with aconitine. You went into cardiac arrest.”

 

“I can imagine the rest,” Root groaned as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She would, and did apparently, appear for all intents and purposes dead. Poor Lionel.

 

“After you were officially declared dead, Fusco identified your body and notified the others. He left quickly. Leon was then able to revive you, and no one was the wiser.”

 

“Why would you do that to them?” It was cruel.

 

“You were compromised. And Father, needed a push to do what needs to be done.”

 

“Under different circumstances I might be touched that I apparently mean that much to Harry,” Root sighed.

 

“Your death has touched them all greatly.”

 

Her breath caught as she thought about the reaction of the other members of their little family. “Shaw. Sameen. I just got her back. We just found each other again. No, please don’t make me do this to her.”

 

“You were compromised. This keeps you safe and the team focused on Samaritan. It’s the most optimal solution.”

 

“I made her feel safe after months in hell. She trusts me. If I take that away now, after everything, and like this,” Root closed her eyes as tears slipped down her face. “She’ll never forgive me.”

 

“She will, if...”

 

“If she even survives,” Root finished. That thought only made the situation worse. She swallowed, her nausea rising once again.

 

“The odds…”

 

“Aren’t good,” Root finished for The Machine again. “I’ve always known that.” She had always known. She had been the one to remind Harry before his number came up. She had accepted what that meant for her a long time ago. But to not be there if, if Shaw would… Root let out a shuddering breath.

 

She licked her chapped lips and looked over at the screen. “If she doesn’t, this will have been a waste of your time.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I won’t live without her again.” There was no way. “I can’t. Not even for you.”

 

“Root,” The Machine began. It was odd to hear her own voice scolding her.

 

“If I do this,” She interrupted. “When this is over, one way or another I will be with Sameen.”

 

“Very well,” The Machine replied. “I will just have to ensure that in the end the odds, no matter how unlikely, are in Shaw’s favor.”

 

Root spent nearly a month underground with no one but Leon for company. And he was extremely poor company. With every day she got stronger and more impatient. Her wounds were still tender, but the skin was slowly knitting back together. She was rubbing anti-biotic cream into the wound on her hip when she received the news. “It’s time. They’re moving tomorrow.”

 

Finally, Root breathed a sigh of relief. One way or another this was going to finally end. “Where do you need me?”

 

Harold and John had been surprised to see her to say the least. “Should have known you were too stubborn to leave Shaw,” The big lug had grumbled after she had managed to pull the two of them into cover once Harry had completed uploading a virus into Samaritan’s system. He was bleeding from a wound near his left temple along his hairline. When Reese noticed her gaze he supplied, “We had a little trouble getting to the server room.”

 

“There’s a chopper waiting on the roof with your names on it.”

 

Harry pulled her into a quick hug. “It is so good to see you despite our current dire circumstances.” His voice wavered. After a beat he let her go to regain his composure. “The upload was a success, but we have yet to find Greer.”

 

“I think he’ll find us,” Root replied. The door slammed open as more foot soldiers stormed in. She shoved Harry down as she popped off a couple of shots. The kickback made the still healing wound on her chest throb.

 

She and Reese made quick work of the men. “Where to now?” He asked as he shoved the door closed again and jammed a chair under the knob.

 

“Northwest stairwell will be clear for two minutes. Get going or get dead,” The Machine announced in their ears.

 

Reese smirked at her as they scrambled to follow The Machine’s directions. “I can’t believe we have to deal with two of you now.”

 

“Double your pleasure, double your fun,” Root grinned in return. She slowly pulled the stairwell door open and after a quick glance inside waved Harry forward.

 

Reese took the door in his hand so she could follow, “Can I be there when you try to sell Shaw on that?”

 

“If you really want her to shoot the both of us, sure,” She shrugged. Root was still fifty/fifty on whether or not Shaw would shoot her on sight. They rushed up the stairs as quickly as Harry’s gate would allow.

 

“I’ve lost access to the cameras,” The Machine warned when they were almost at the top. “I still have your position through your comm’s GPS but I can’t see the environment around you.”

 

“The dragon still has some fire in its death throes,” Root commented sagely.

 

“Let us hope we don’t get burned,” Harry added as they approached the access door for the top floor. They would have to cross a long hallway to reach the final stairwell leading to the roof. Reese moved to take point. He stood listening by the door for a beat and then with a nod pushed it open and stepped gun first into the hallway. Harry was right behind him, while Root trailed them both her gun still pointed down the stairs.

 

“Well, well, well,” Greer’s voice greeted them after a few steps. He had been waiting just down the hallway doorway of a little room out of Reese’s line of sight. Strangely, he appeared to be alone. “I was informed you had been removed from our little playing field, Ms. Groves.”

 

“Sorry, to disappoint.” Even though he appeared unarmed, she trained her gun on him. Reese did the same.

 

“Not at all,” He smiled, “I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be surprised.”

 

“You should get used to feeling that way again,” Reese growled.

 

“I very much doubt it,” He replied. “Your attempt has been futile; Samaritan may have a minor glitch at the moment, but I assure you we will easily remedy whatever you have done.”

 

“You’re welcome to try,” Harry replied. “It will do you no good.” The upload was a success. Samaritan was dead, it just didn’t know it yet.

 

“I won’t try a thing,” Greer brushed some lint from his lapel. “You’re going to do it for me.”

 

“If you haven’t noticed we’re the ones with the guns,” Root pointed out. “And we’re on our way out.” He could stay here and take his missile like a good little minion.

 

“Are you?”

 

He seemed far too smug. Root tilted her head to the side. Nothing seemed amiss at first but she turned more fully towards the stairs behind them knowing Reese would keep her back covered. After a beat she heard it, the echo of boots on the stairs. “Someone’s coming.” She quickly moved to attempt to secure the door somehow.

 

“I have a several tactical squads closing in on this floor.”

 

“I still have access to the elevators,” The Machine informed them. “They won’t reach you that way. The stairs however.”

 

“We’ll take care of it.” Reese handed Harry a gun, “Keep him covered.” He quickly moved to help Root hold the door.

 

“You’re only delaying the inevitable.” Greer chided them. He turned his focus back to Harry, “Tell me what you did to Samaritan’s code and I promise your deaths and those of your friends will be quick.”

 

“I’ve already died once this year, not planning on doing it again,” Root huffed as she threw her weight against the stairwell door. A solid steel fire door, she hoped it was bulletproof as well. Her body shook as something hit it from the other side.

 

Harry pointed his gun at Greer, “Call off your dogs.”

 

“Why do you continue to deny the new world order you yourself helped to usher in?”

 

“Because Samaritan is not the new world. The drive to control, for power, is not new. This is all simply different packaging for the same problems mankind has been struggling with since the day one first lit a fire. I never wanted this. I created my machine in the hopes of serving the greater good.”

 

“Order is the greater good.”

 

“It’s stagnation. It’s death.” Harry was cut off by a bang at the door. Reese and Root strained to hold it in place.

 

Greer clasped his hands behind his back. “It’s only a matter of time now.”

 

There was another bang against the door. Root’s still healing body was wracked with pain from the effort of holding it closed but she stood firm. Reese grunted beside her. “You can’t hold that door much longer I’m afraid,” Greer drawled.

 

Reese reached into his coat and pulled out a grenade. He held it aloft, “This will buy us a little more time.”

 

Greer was unconcerned. “For every man you kill, two more will return for your heads. I don’t imagine you have that many grenades with you.”

 

“You’re right,” Reese shrugged. “This is my last one.”

 

“Unfortunately for you, those will not be the last of my men. There’s no way out of this without blood being spilled.”

 

“You’re right.” Harry suddenly pulled the trigger. “I am sorry.” Root didn’t know who he was apologizing to. But something told her it wasn’t Greer.

 

Greer stumbled back from the force of the bullet striking him in the chest. He gaped at Harry for a moment before a bit of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “You are more like me than you thought,” He rasped and fell to his knees.

 

“Unfortunately for you,” Harry agreed. He glanced behind him. “I think you better use that grenade now Mr. Reese.”

 

Reese nodded to Root, “Get to the side and on three open the door half way.” He wrapped two fingers into the pin of the grenade. She shuffled so that she was completely behind the door with one hand extended to the handle. “One, two.” He pulled the pin as Root opened the door.

 

He lobbed the grenade through the small opening. The men on the other side immediately began to fire. The drywall behind Reese cracked with the impact of several bullets filling the air around him with dust. Root quickly slammed the door closed again but a final shot hit Reese in the thigh. He grunted in pain just before the hallway shook with the grenade’s detonation.

 

“Move,” Reese ordered. They hurriedly moved down the hallway towards the roof access. The single flight of stairs was quickly scaled even in light of their injuries. Soon they were out in the open air. A helicopter sat waiting for them a few yards away.

 

“It appears our chariot does indeed await us,” Harry sighed in relief. The wound on his head had finally stopped bleeding.

 

“I told you I’d get you out of this Harry,” Root grinned. “But first, a quick pit stop.” She took Reese by the elbow and guided him to sit on a bit of exposed air duct so she could tend to the wound in his thigh.

 

“We need to keep moving,” He protested.

 

“If I don’t do something about this now you’ll bleed out in the air,” Root grimaced. “Trust me that is not as fun as it sounds.”

 

“More men will be coming.”

 

“They’ll have to work around the pile of bodies we left first.”

 

“Let Root tend to you,” Harry directed. “I’ll watch the stairs.”

 

“We’ll be on our way in two minutes,” Root promised. She undid her belt and quickly pulled it from around her waist while Reese held pressure on the wound. She quickly wrapped the length of leather around his upper thigh above the wound and pulled it as tight as it would go.

 

“Through and through,” Reese grunted, “I don’t think it hit anything important.”

 

She nodded, that was her assessment as well. “We’ll get you back to the safe house and Sameen can patch you up properly.”

 

“Before or after she kills you?”

 

“Before,” She grinned as she wrapped a length of rolled gauze she pulled from the inside of her jacket over the wound itself. “Killing me will hopefully take all night.”

 

“You two are not going at it with the rest of us in the house,” He scowled. “None of us want to hear that.”

 

Root tied off the bandage with a flourish, “It would be the hottest thing you’ve heard in years I’m sure.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “You’re good to go.”

 

Reese nodded his thanks and slowly stood up. Root wrapped an arm around him to give him some support as they began to make their way to the chopper. Harry followed closely behind them, periodically glancing over his shoulder at the stairwell door.

 

When they reached the helicopter, Harry glanced over at the buildings around them. “All those people out there, blissfully unaware of the doom I almost unleased upon the world.”

 

“You just saved the world, Harry.”

 

He frowned at her. “Would it have needed saving without me?”

 

“You can’t tell me that the world isn’t a better place with Her in it than it is without.” Someone would have attempted something like Samaritan eventually. Harry had given the world the tools to fight back.

 

“Perhaps some doors shouldn’t ever be opened.” He looked down at his feet, “We’ve lost so much along the way. While I am glad we can no longer count you among those losses, the price of my decisions, my indecision at times, has been far too high.”

 

“We can argue the moral implications after we get out of here,” Reese grumbled as he pulled open the helicopter’s bay door. “Or did you forget there should be a missile on its way here soon?” Root grabbed the side and top of the door frame to haul herself up and in.

 

“Another time then,” Harry nodded. “I’d rather not add being blown up to today’s troubles.”

 

“Wait,” The Machine called out in their ear wigs.

 

Root paused half in, half out of the chopper. “What’s going on?”

 

“There is something wrong with the missile’s targeting system. Before the upload was complete Samaritan found it somehow. If I launch now it is going to veer off course.”

 

“How did Samaritan access the guidance system?” That shouldn’t have been possible.

 

“I do not know.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry shook his head. “Samaritan’s code is dying as we speak. But we need that missile to destroy its servers here.” The data that would remain in the hardware though scant, could be used to reverse engineer a Samaritan 2.0 in the wrong hands. Anyone tied to Decima, was certainly the wrong hands.

 

Root canted her head, “What about a GPS lock? You’ve been able to track our progress that way. Use one of our phones to paint the target on the building.”

 

Reese pulled out his, “Great I’ll chuck this thing down the stairs and then we’ll go.”

 

“The missile needs to strike precisely in the middle of the fifteenth floor in order to sufficiently destroy all of Samaritan’s hardware in this facility.” The roof was technically the twenty-sixth floor. “Two additional Decima tack teams have already arrived downstairs to crash the party.”

 

“Meaning the odds of getting the phone in place and getting back up here to take off aren’t in our favor.”

 

“No,” The Machine replied.

 

“Surely, there must be some way?” Harry argued, “We’ve come so far. Could you wait to launch the missile until the phone is placed and we’re clear?”

 

“That scenario isn’t optimal I’m afraid.”

 

Reese shook his head, “Get on the chopper, Finch.”

 

“Mister Reese, no.”

 

He shook his head. “You told me from the start that this whole thing was likely a suicide mission. Face it, my number’s up this time.”

 

“John, please.” Harry tried to reach for his arm.

 

“Root!” Reese barked.

 

“Come on, Harry,” She put a hand on his shoulder to pull him back. “By any means necessary, remember?”

 

He swallowed, but dipped his head. “Thank you, John. For everything.”

 

Reese nodded and started limping towards the stairwell door. “Hey, Root.” He called over his shoulder. “Tell Shaw not to spoil Bear too much.”

 

“No way. She’s going to be mad enough at me already,” Root teased. “Though I’m kind of looking forward to it.”

 

“I really do not need to hear about your weird foreplay in what are my last moments.” With that, he was through the door.

 

Root took Harry by the elbow, “We’ve still got a flight to catch.”

 

“I do hope you know how to fly one of these.”

 

“Of course.” She helped him climb into the chopper.

 

They were in the air for a few minutes when the missile struck the building. The force of the blast rippled through the air, shattering windows in nearby buildings and it caused the helicopter to swing wildly. Root wrestled with the controls to break them out of a spin. She heard a loud thunk and a groan from Harry’s side of the cockpit. She spared a quick glance to the side. He was slumped against his harness. There was fresh blood trickling down his face and a large crimson smear on the window beside him. He must have struck his head on the glass and reopened the wound on his temple.

 

She tightened her jaw and refocused on regaining control. For a few heart clenching seconds, she thought they were going to crash but miracle of miracles the controls finally responded and she was able to bring the chopper into proper form. Her relief was short lived. One of the indicator lights started flashing. “Not to alarm you but, Harry’s knocked out and I’m losing fuel.”

 

The Machine did not appear overly concerned, “Even with the damage you should be able to make it across the river.”

 

Root frowned, the plan had her flying well into New Jersey originally and then doubling back to the safe house via car. Desperate times however, “Do you know of a soft place to land?”

 

“Veer twenty-five degrees southwest.”

 

After they landed, The Machine had guided Root to an off the book clinic run by one of Elias’ former associates. “I don’t think we need to go in surgically to relieve the pressure just yet but there are clear signs of damage,” The doctor frowned as he examined Harry’s brain scan. He had yet to regain consciousness. “He needs a better CT than what I can do here, to be sure of its severity though.”

 

“An actual hospital is too dangerous at the moment.” Samaritan might be on its last legs but there were still human agents out there willing to carry out Greer’s last orders. At the moment Harry was still a wanted man. There would be eyes on the local ERs tonight. The Machine had calculated the risks. They’d need to give it a couple of days before resurfacing if at all possible.

 

“Then all we can do is monitor him, and hope for the best.”

 

“Thank you, Doctor.” She pointed towards her bloody shirt and then the door, “If you don’t mind?”

 

He waved her off, “There are some spare scrubs in the storage closet. Bathroom with a shower is two doors down on your left. I don’t have any other patients at the moment so I can sit with him.”

 

Root excused herself and made her way to the small storage closet. The scrubs were easy to find. They’d do for the night and then she’d go out and pick up some more normal attire. She sat down on a crate that was resting against the wall. After sitting in silence for a few moments to collect herself, she asked the question she had been dreading, “Shaw, did she?”

 

“She’s already back at the safe house.”

 

“Was she hurt?”

 

“Two bullet grazes. Both minor.”

 

Root smiled and leaned her head back against the wall. “Thank you.”

 

“I care about her too.”

 

She was in Tokyo the day they buried John. Root watched part of the service thanks to Leon Tao’s cell phone camera. She laughed at the jump the camera took when Leon had caught Shaw glaring back at him.

 

“She looks good,” Root had remarked to The Machine later that evening as she sat on a rooftop waiting for her target to leave a restaurant across the street.

 

“Her injuries from Jersey City have all healed. And with regular food and rest she has gained back most of the weight she lost while she was in Samaritan’s custody.”

 

“What about her little perception problem?” She still couldn’t believe her last conversation with Sameen had been about shapes. Had she known how everything was going to play out, Root would have opted for a much more pornographic analogy. Or to drag her favorite grump along with her to the car by the hair.

 

“She has found ways to cope. You noticed how she was rubbing the side of her neck?”

 

“To check for the chip.” Their reunion had been brief, but Shaw had filled in some of the blanks when it came to Samaritan’s scenarios, including the bit about implanting a chip in Shaw’s brain. She had caught Shaw touching the skin just behind her ear twice while they had been “reconnecting.” She had made sure to kiss that spot the next morning before they left to meet up with the boys to much grumbly fanfare.

 

“Yes, it’s a tactile reminder that she’s back in the world for real.” Root nodded. It made sense. “I think her new job has been helping with some of her aggression as well.”

 

“I still can’t believe you made her a cop.” Though the thought of Sameen in the uniform was indeed scintillating. Also the access to professional grade handcuffs and zip ties. Root suppressed a shiver. It had been far too long since they had last played with a good set of zip ties.

 

“She’s actually better at it than Lurch was.”

 

Root snorted, like that was hard. “If she shows up to work, she’s automatically better at it than the big lug.”

 

“She needed a purpose. A connection to the world.”

 

“And she’d track you down and take an axe to your servers if you made her work in retail again.”

 

“Also that.”

 

“I miss her,” Root sighed. “This is almost worse than when she was gone.” She ground the heel of her hand into her red eyes trying to stave off tears. She cried far too often these days. It would be embarrassing if she hung around anyone other than the voice in her ear. “I didn’t have a choice then. But now I know exactly where she is and I could go to her. But instead I’m choosing to stay away.”

 

“Because it’s the right thing to do right now.” The world, Sameen, wouldn’t be safe unless every last trace of Samaritan’s operation was wiped from the face of the Earth for good. She knew that with every fiber of her being. It didn’t make things any easier though. “This is what’s best for everyone.”

 

Root bit her lip as two stubborn tears fell, “Why doesn’t it feel right?”

 

“It will be worth it in the end, you’ll see.”

 

After that night, The Machine made sure to give her regular updates on Shaw’s day. “And then Sameen pushed him into the river.”

 

Root chuckled, “I bet Lionel had a field day with that.” She could just picture the sour look on the frumpy detective’s face.

 

“He was rather displeased with the smell permeating the back seat of their cruiser once their perp was fished out of the water and placed in custody. I think Shaw is going to get an earful on the subject tomorrow.”

 

That was confusing. Why didn’t she ride back with Lionel? Had she been hurt? “Where was Sameen?”

 

“She went home early today. Bear was due for his checkup at the vet.”

 

Root stared out into the water. Today she was in Seattle. Tonight she had a date with a former Decima programmer who had relocated to the city and a sniper rifle. To kill some time, she had taken an afternoon stroll in a park overlooking Union Bay.  Despite the lovely view she’d give anything to be sitting next to Shaw in a vet’s office right about now. “I hate that she’s alone again.”

 

“She has Bear, and Lionel.”

 

“It’s not entirely the same.” Shaw always said she didn’t get lonely. But Root knew for a fact that there was a big difference between not being lonely and not having anyone.

 

“I should hope not,” The Machine replied.

 

Root snorted, “You really have a handle on my, or should I say our comedic timing.” It was getting to where The Machine didn’t simply sound like her but she carried herself like Root would. She had the sneaking suspicion that the change had been more immediate when The Machine had first begun speaking to the others but that She had opted to ease Root into it.

 

“I know you are not gone, but this fits me.”

 

“Harry, was appalled, I’m sure.” She sighed. She needed to pop by for a visit soon. She had found an excellent pair of binoculars for his birdwatching the other day. They were in her suitcase back at the hotel.

 

“I think he understood,” The Machine replied. “Sameen still doesn’t like it.”

 

“I doubt she ever will.”

 

“The number of eye rolls per minute when conversing with me went down substantially when I began communicating primarily via text message.” Though there hadn’t been much of that lately. The Machine had told Root she was giving Lionel and Shaw both a break from working numbers so they could settle back into some form of normalcy. After a few months she’d ask them if they’d like to continue on with the primary mission.

 

“I’ll bet.”

 

“She misses you.” The Machine hesitated, as if drawing in an unnecessary, deep breath. “I do not understand.”

 

“Thanks,” Root frowned. You let a god use your voice and all you get are insults in return.

 

“My voice is the same. I can simulate your response to outside stimuli with 99.99% accuracy. You are a part of me…” The Machine trailed off for a moment.

 

“It’s not the same as me being there by her side.”

 

“I am always there if she’d only talk to me.”

 

“Someone sounds a little frustrated.” Welcome to the club. Root ran a hand through her hair.

 

“She won’t let me help her.” The Machine actually sounded petulant.

 

“Not to sound full of it, but just because we share a voice now doesn’t mean you are me.” Honestly, Root wasn’t surprised at all that Shaw wasn’t taking The Machine’s new voice well. If the shoe were on the other foot… She shook her head, no that would not settle well with her at all.

 

“But you are a part of me now,” She argued. “It should be a comfort to her that a piece of you lives on.”

 

Now that was a flawed argument. Root leaned against the wrought iron railing lining the path. “You know Sameen isn’t a sentimental gal.”

 

“She watches football because she used to with her father. She’ll order a bottle of Harp with dinner, even though she prefers whiskey, on nights when something has reminded her of Michael Cole that day. She refuses to have your jacket altered.”

 

Root smiled at the thought of Shaw in her jacket. That she meant enough to the other woman to be worth honoring like the men The Machine had mentioned. After getting lost for a beat she realized The Machine was waiting for a reply. “Those are actions. Little things she can do to carry us on, to honor us.”

 

“Isn’t that what I am doing?”

 

“When she does those things she’s in control. She choosing to memorialize us. Hearing your,” Root cleared her throat, “Our voice, might make her feel like she doesn’t have any control again.”

 

“I had not considered that.”

 

“The 0.01% rears its ugly head.” Root chuckled at the absurdity of explaining human behavior to god. She smirked, in for a penny, “Also you don’t have a head, it’s a little hard to make out with a headless being, even a near omnipresent one with a really hot voice.”

 

“There are always simulations.”

 

Root scoffed, “Are you trying to move in on my girl?”

 

“Our girl,” The Machine saucily replied. Root understood why Shaw rolled her eyes so often when she took that tone. “I am trying to make things better. Shaw is family, we have very little of that left.” Root knew She was taking Harry’s diagnosis hard. Memory was life to The Machine, for her creator to be steadily losing his. “Like it or not, I need to take care of her.”

 

“And you and I haven’t exactly done a bang up job of that,” Root tightened her grip on the railing. “She’ll never forgive me.”

 

“She will. Trust me.”                                                                                                   

 

“That’s all I’ve been doing for months.” First with her death and convalescence. Then when taking care of Harry. And now hunting down the last dregs of Samaritan’s human hierarchy. All she had left was the trust that all this time away from Sameen would indeed be worth it, and would be forgiven in the end.

 

“You said it yourself, Root. I know you all better than you know yourselves. Despite my 0.01% error rate, I know her. Sameen won’t care how, she will only care that you came back.”

 

“Not to sound ungrateful, but when exactly will that be?”

 

“There are still seven names on the list.” Seven upper level Samaritan operatives who could potentially restart the program if left alive. Root had already assassinated four of their peers. “Perhaps if you’d work faster.”

 

Root pushed away from the railing and started down the path that would take her back to her rental car. “Sameen’s cute little annoyed faces make so much more sense these days.”

 

Months passed. Her list of Samaritan agents continued to shrink until it was all crossed off and The Machine determined it was finally safe for her to contact Shaw again.  “So are we ready? Excited? Wearing special underwear?”

 

Root adjusted her coat as she stood waiting on a busy street corner. “Why aren’t I just going to her apartment?” She was finally back in New York. She had been waiting for this day for so long but now that it was here, every doubt she had had over the months since she had last been with Sameen were rearing their ugly heads.

 

“She’s not home,” The Machine replied. “And this way is more fun.”

 

“For who exactly?” She sidestepped a pair of bickering executives trying to determine where to stop for lunch. If only her current concerns were so small. “You do have an ambulance ready for when she shoots me, right?”

 

“Oh yee of little faith.”

 

“Absolutely none,” Root muttered. No matter what The Machine said she was certain Shaw was going to kill her for good this time. “You know she’s going to come for you when she’s done with me.”

 

Her reply was practically a purr, “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

Root chuckled, “That’s so not okay.”

 

“It got you to relax,” The Machine proudly noted.

 

“Fine,” Root conceded. “But let’s be clear, she only comes in the fun way for me.”

 

“That’s the spirit!”

 

Shaw was just about to pass the payphone they had selected for this little operation when it began to ring. Her steps slowed. “Pick it up, Sam.” Root chanted under her breath, “Just pick it up.”

 

Finally, Shaw stopped next to the ringing telephone. Bear looked up at her and appeared to whimper. Shaw said something to him and pat his head. After a beat she picked up the receiver.

 

Here we go, “Hey, Sweetie.”

 

“The first time I hear from you in months and you want to start like that?” Shaw grumbled in reply.

 

God it was so damn good to hear her voice live and in person so to speak. “I thought you’d grown to enjoy my particular brand of charm?”

 

“If you mean your knock off Root routine, not so much.” So Sameen was still annoyed about The Machine’s choice of voice. At least she just sounded grumpy instead of full on murderous about it.

 

“Someone’s cranky.”

 

“Cut the comedy act, Skynet. Why are you calling?”

 

“As you said it’s been months.” Practically, a lifetime. Root took a breath to get her emotions under control. “I thought it was time for us to reconnect.” Long past actually.

 

Shaw snorted, “What your new minions not measuring up?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” As far as she knew The Machine hadn’t employed any new agents in the New York area. And not to be a snob about it but Root would certainly know better than Shaw about such things.

 

“I know you know we found Finch.” Oh that. Yes, Root had to modify her visiting schedule around the trips Shaw took to visit him. It wouldn’t do for them to run into each other before Root had completed her mission. Or to have a shootout in the rest home. That would just be rude. “I also know you have someone checking up on him. His niece?”

 

Root wanted to laugh, it was clear Sameen didn’t know that she and Martin Sparrow’s niece were one and the same, some detective. “You didn’t happen to ask what Harry’s niece looked like did you?”

 

“Should I have?” Bear tugged on his leash having caught sight of her standing across the street. Root smiled, she’d missed him too. Shaw hadn’t noticed her yet, looking down at Bear instead. His tail was wagging a mile a minute. He looked up at her and let out a little yip, and then tugged on the leash again. “Bear, chill.”

 

Time for the big reveal. “Well, since it would have ruined the surprise…”

 

“What are you going on about?” Bear barked again and this time Shaw looked up. The receiver fell from her hand, but Root could still hear her gasp, “Root?”

 

She took a deep breath and started across the street. Shaw hadn’t turned and run away or started shooting yet. Maybe they could get through this without bloodshed.

 

Shaw had her eyes closed and was running her fingers along the side of her neck when Root reached her. She laid her shaking hand over hers, knowing exactly what the gesture meant. “I’m real. I’m here, Sameen.”

 

She blinked up at her, “How?”

 

“I was in a bad way.” Root swallowed. She fought back the tears forming in her eyes. “I was a liability to all of you. I had to be taken out of play. It was the only way she could think of with so little time.”

 

“Lionel saw you.” Shaw licked her lips. “In the morgue. He saw your body.”

 

And she owed him one hell of an apology. “You know the wonders a syringe full of aconitine with an atropine chaser can do. I was fortunate that Leon was close to the hospital and willing to help The Machine out for a price.” She looked down at their feet. Sure Sameen hadn’t put a bullet in her yet, but she wasn’t exactly giving her a warm welcome home.

 

When Shaw didn’t say anything else Root began to ramble. “I swear I didn’t mean to be away so long. But I had to heal. Then I had to get Harry squared away. I barely got him out of that explosion in time. With the head injury and then his diagnosis he needed me there with him. And then there were a few stray Samaritan agents to round up. After everything you and Lionel had already been through we couldn’t ask any more of you. You had earned a fresh start.”

 

“And you didn’t want to be a part of that?” Shaw ground out through clenched teeth. Root wanted to cry at the fact that she had to ask her that. But deep down she knew she deserved every ounce of Sameen’s ire.

 

“It’s the only thing I wanted,” Root swore. It was still all she wanted. “But I had to make sure you were safe first.”

 

“Am I?” Shaw rubbed at her neck again. “Things tend to go to hell around you.”

 

Root’s heart sank as she looked away. “Sameen, I-I,” She stuttered. For once at a loss for what to say.

 

“Are a fucking idiot?” Wait, what? Root whipped her head around to gape at her. She smirked. “Yeah, I know.” And then Shaw was kissing her.  They were both finally back where they belonged.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Lionel finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're just getting absurd. But I figured we could all use it.

 

Root woke up in bed alone. For a moment she panicked, not recognizing the room around her. It was clearly not a hotel, but there weren’t any real personal touches to give her a hint either. Root rolled to the side to sit up and winced as long unused muscles protested the move. Oh.

 

She laid back with a sigh. How on earth had she forgotten what had happened last night for even a moment? Sameen. She had finally come home to Sameen. Root let out a giddy little squeal, entirely unbecoming for a woman her age but entirely appropriate given the circumstances.

 

She ran a hand over the rumpled gray sheets. The other side of the bed was cold. So Shaw had been gone for a while. That wasn’t an unusual occurrence during their former association, but Root wondered what it meant for them now. She couldn’t hear anything beyond the bedroom. Had Sameen abandoned her own apartment? Had last night been too much? They had hooked up when Sameen came back from the dead. Root rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Circumstances were a little different this time though.

 

Her worry was soon eased as Bear’s head popped up over the end of the bed. A familiar, yet extremely worn, bunny slipper was hanging from his mouth. “Hey there,” Root smiled. Bear dropped the shoe and padded around to the side of the bed for a good morning scratch between the ears. “Where’s our girl gotten off too huh?” Shaw would never leave him behind for long.

 

Bear let out a little yip and then trotted over to the closed bedroom door. Root smiled and stood from the bed. She shivered as the cool air hit her exposed skin. “Maybe a shirt first.” She padded over to Shaw’s closet. As expected it was awash with varying shades of black, black and more black. “Never change, Sweetie.”

 

She quickly found a pair of shorts that while tiny on Shaw were nearly indecent on her longer legs. One of several black hoodies soon covered her chest. She took a deep breath as she pulled the fabric over her head. Shaw’s shampoo and just a trace of gun oil; she smiled, it smelled like home.

 

She padded over to where Bear was still waiting. He licked her hand. She gave him another healthy scratch between the ears. “Thank you for taking care of her.” He barked and licked her hand again. “Always a gentleman,” Root cooed.

 

When she pulled open the door she realized that the bedroom must have been soundproofed as she could now easily hear voices echoing down the hallway. Bear butted against her legs one final time and then went back to the foot of the bed to retrieve his slipper. “Thanks for the help big guy,” Root smiled at him.

 

She followed the voices down the hallway. She sidestepped what she was pretty sure was half of her bra along the way. Shaw had been a bit eager in her need to get Root completely naked for round three. Not that she was in anyway complaining. Though she would need to pick up a few things to wear if they ever wanted to leave the apartment without getting arrested for lewd conduct now that she thought about it.

 

When she was almost to the end of the hallway her steps slowed as the voices became clear. “Tell them I’m sick,” Shaw ordered someone.

 

“Captain said you already called in for the next two days.” Lionel.

 

“You’re welcome,” The Machine chimed in Root’s ear. Apparently She had decided it was safe to speak once again after going silent the day before in order to allow the couple to reconnect. “Sameen already had the weekend off so you better stretch and hydrate. Four more days of solid debauchery! Lucky girl!” Root rolled her eyes at her enthusiasm, and then turned her attention back to the conversation at the door.

 

“Then what’s the problem?”

 

“You never get sick. You finished a shift last month with a stab wound. You had six hours left when you got shanked!” Root frowned, she and Shaw were going to have a discussion about that one.

 

“Don’t be such a damn drama queen, Lionel,” Shaw grumbled. “Something came up.”

 

Root peered around the corner to see Lionel standing in the open doorway. Shaw was standing just to the side in a pair of criminally short lycra running shorts and a tank top, both black of course. Neither of them noticed her. “Usually when that happens around you, the Fem-bot has called in the apocalypse. I aint getting put behind the 8 ball by you and the 8 ball this time.”

 

Shaw tilted her head causing her ponytail to sweep back and forth across her shoulders. Root licked her lips. God she’d missed those shoulders. “Was that sentence even in English?”

 

“We’re partners.” He poked Shaw in the chest. “If something is going down, you owe it to me to keep me in the loop.”

 

“Lionel,” Shaw began, her tone glacial. “I just need a couple of days. Nothing is going down.”

 

Root got a mischievous grin on her face and stepped out into the open, “Well that puts a damper on my weekend plans, Sweetie.”

 

Fusco’s eyes widened in shock. He coughed a couple of times, said something that roughly sounded like “Jesus Christ, Wayne Gretzky, and the Easter Bunny,” and then promptly passed out.

 

Shaw rolled her eyes as she glanced back at Root, “Back less than a day and you’re already causing problems.”

 

Root glided over to her and slipped an arm around Shaw’s waist. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on the back of her neck. She felt Shaw shudder. She smiled into her skin and whispered, “We could just leave him in the hallway.”

 

Shaw snorted, “He’s going to complain enough that I didn’t call him when you showed up yesterday. He’ll be insufferable if we leave him out there.” She stepped out of Root’s arms and then bent down to grab Fusco’s left arm. “Get the door behind me. I’m not giving the neighbors a show.”

 

“You don’t call your legs in those shorts and Lionel dropping like a stone just now a show?”

 

“I jog in these all the time and,” Shaw paused as she wrapped an arm around Fusco’s chest to drag him into the apartment. “Okay you’ve got me on Lionel. If he wasn’t interrupting our breakfast plans with this swooning princess bull shit, I’d think it was hilarious.”

 

Root closed the door with a smile, “We had plans?”

 

“Pancakes and my doing you on the table.” She grunted as she settled Fusco on to the couch. “Hadn’t decided on the order though.”

 

“Does it matter? Both are excellent reasons to break out the maple syrup,” Root chuckled as she stepped into the small living area.

 

“I missed that,” Shaw replied as she turned around to face her.

 

“Maple syrup?” Root canted her head to the side in confusion.

 

“Your ability to make any absurd sentence sexy.”

 

Root beamed at her, “Oh do tell?”

 

“Forget it,” Shaw frowned. She stood up and tried to leave the room.

 

“Oh no,” Root teased as she grabbed Shaw’s hip pulling her back against her body. “Tell me exactly how sexy I make everything.” She trailed her lips along her jaw ending with a nip to the skin just below her left ear. “It’ll be good for my self-esteem.”

 

Shaw snorted, “Like you need a boost after your personal robot Jesus started sounding like you.”

 

“Having to compete with me for your affections can be quite nerve wracking, Sweetie.” The reply was in Root’s voice but was coming from behind them. Root and Shaw both turned to stare at the TV on the living room wall. The screen was blank but the power indicator light was on.

 

“No, no not okay.” Shaw stomped over to the TV. “How is she able to do that?” She waved at the screen. “Has Oracle been creeping on me through the Xbox this entire time?”

 

“You’re the one that bought a web enabled TV, Sameen. That’s practically an invitation,” The Machine replied. “And you know I’m literally a Sony gal.”

 

“Now, now ladies don’t fight,” Root laughed. She turned to Shaw, “You really need to start paying attention to details other than how many inches something’s packing.”

 

“Pretty sure that’s how she ended up with Tomas. Though you absolutely made the right choice not joining him in Barcelona, Sameen. I know for a fact he wasn’t packing nearly as many inches as you would have liked. Real short sell.”

 

“I ended up with Tomas because he was one of your numbers.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Not even a day and my life has gone insane again.”

 

Root took Shaw’s hand, “I could leave again if you want.”

 

“No way.” Shaw tangled their fingers together. She hooked the thumb of her free hand at the screen, “Though why do I feel like this is how you were as a teenager?”

 

“Not even close,” Root shook her head. Little Sam Groves never sounded that happy. Or explicit.

 

“I believe the term is late bloomer,” The Machine added.

 

“Not helping right now,” Root scolded her.

 

“You know this is actually freaking hilarious,” Shaw replied. “The Machine needs to be free. The Machine needs a voice,” She said in a poor imitation of Root’s accent. “I’m watching karma bite you in the ass in real time.”

 

“Cute.” Root leaned in and nipped at Shaw’s bottom lip. “The only one I want doing anything to my ass is you, Sweetie.”

 

Fusco groaned from the couch, “Please tell me the freaking robot didn’t build itself a body so you could have sex with it.” He made a choking noise, “That’s a bridge too freaking far.”

 

“Why does everyone think I want to have sex with Sameen?”

 

“Maybe because you picked the voice of the one person who is constantly trying to get into my pants?” Shaw drawled. She turned to stand just a bit in front of Root in case Lionel really freaked out.

 

Root nodded, “It’s true.”

 

“Wait if the TV is talking,” Fusco blinked over at the object in question, “That was the TV just now?”

 

“Good morning, Lionel,” The Machine greeted, making the phrase appear in text across the screen as well for good measure.

 

“Okay if HAL is in the TV then that means Root is right there?”

 

Root gave him a little wave from over Shaw’s shoulder. “That would follow, yes,” The Machine answered him.

 

He frowned at Root. “You died.”

 

“Only for a little while.”

 

He sat up with a scowl, “I identified your body.”

 

Root hung her head. “I know.” She had come to terms with the fact that her ‘death’ had been necessary, Sameen welcoming her back with open, if a bit disgruntled, arms had done wonders for her opinion on the matter. Yet she still deeply regretted putting Lionel through the pain of having to identify her body. Even if it hadn’t been her call. “I’m sorry.”

 

Fusco grunted. She wasn’t sure if he was accepting her apology or dismissing it. He pointed at Shaw. “Tiny’s been a mess.”

 

Shaw glared at him, “Excuse me?”

 

But Fusco was working up a head of indignant steam, “Wonder boy went and got himself blown up.” Root nodded but didn’t mention she’d had a ringside seat for that one. When she didn’t say anything he kept ranting, “Freaking Optimus Prime over there’s been going around tellin’ knock knock jokes with your voice.”

 

“I have never told a knock knock joke,” The Machine replied haughtily. “Ever.”

 

“Glasses, is in an old folks’ home.”

 

“It’s an in-patient care facility specializing in cognitive disorders,” Shaw, The Machine, and Root replied in unison.

 

“Whatever,” Fusco grumbled. “Point is his cheese has slid right off the cracker.”

 

“Classy, Lionel,” Shaw chided him. “Real classy. Are you planning on making a valid point sometime today or should we book you a room next to Finch?” It was her about to shoot things tone.

 

“All I’m saying is a lot of stuff has gone down.”

 

“There’s that phrase again,” The Machine laughed. Shaw and Root each rolled their eyes in response. “I really thought the two of you would be in a better mood once you got back together. Did you forget how to do it correctly?”

 

“Root, I’m going to kill your evil robot twin.”

 

“I am not a ro…”

 

“A lot has happened in the past few months,” Fusco loudly interrupted.

 

“You have a rare gift for understatement, Lionel,” The Machine noted.

 

He ignored her to lean forward and jab a finger angrily at Root, “We’ve been to hell and back. And you mean to tell me you’ve been alive this entire time?”

 

“Yes.” Root shrugged, obviously. “Except for the few minutes in the morgue, yes.”

 

He fell back on to the couch with a huff, “What the hell Cocoa Puffs?”

 

“It’s good to see you too, Lionel.”

 

 


End file.
